Page 15 of Monsters Wear Crowns (Crowned Monsters Duet #1)

His mouth sought out my ear next, his voice soft yet filled with a dangerous velvet darkness.

“You want someone who’ll do whatever the fuck they want to you.

” As his hand slipped under my dress and delved into my black underwear, his laughter mingled with dark desire.

“My, look how ready you are for me,” he murmured, each word stoked with a fiery assurance that overwhelmed my senses.

I could scarcely catch my breath as I felt two of his fingers plunge inside of me. “Just know if you tell me to stop now, I fucking won’t,” he warned. I closed my eyes, coming undone while his fingers pulled out to stroke my clit.

“I’m going to do whatever I want to you,” he growled against my lips before kissing me roughly.

My world spun when he tore my underwear down my thighs, his strength whisking me from the window and shoving me toward a solid wall.

In a frantic glance upward, I met his wild eyes, unhesitating as he lifted me effortlessly.

My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he commanded, “That’s it, spread those pretty legs for me. ”

I was nothing but prey before a predator.

In a rush of disoriented passion, he unfastened his belt and pants with deliberate swiftness and thrust into me, stretching me painfully.

I gasped against his lips. “Fuck, Adela. Fuck ,” he groaned, driving into me with relentless force immediately.

It was as if he had been starving as well, so desperate to feel me.

A feral part of me shifted, stirring conflicting sensations as I tried, in vain, to push him away–only to be overpowered with a smirk that sealed my fate.

“You can’t get away, little doe,” he declared with a brutal finality as he slammed up into me, each thrust asserting ownership. “You’re mine, now.”

As much as I hated myself for the fantasy…

I murmured a desperate “No” against his chest, but his laugh was cruel and unforgiving as he increased his pace.

My protests were swallowed by his relentless movements, one hand clamping over my mouth.

“Shut the fuck up,” he groaned before plunging deep again.

He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t sweet. He was consuming, relentless, unraveling me piece by piece as if he’d studied every secret I tried to keep buried.

And maybe he had. He understood my dark fantasies, which I never felt comfortable enough to ask other men.

I always struggled with them because I knew they were a little.

..extreme. But I was so powerful in every other avenue of my life that.

..being dominated and claimed so thoroughly by a man was exciting.

And not just any man. He also had to have power.

Like Rafe.

Only then could I feel I could let down those carefully constructed walls.

I let him show me exactly how well he knew me–how deep he had crawled under my skin, how effortlessly he had stripped me bare.

He pushed, I yielded. He commanded, I obeyed.

Not because I was weak. But because I had never felt stronger than in this moment, wrapped in the hurricane of him.

And I knew, even as my body sang for him, that I had stepped too deep into the fire.

There was no turning back now. Rafe was a terrifying, intoxicating monster, and I was lost to him. A slave to the pull between us, to the raw hunger in his dark, tired eyes, to the way his broad shoulders and powerful arms caged me in, making me feel small –something I never was.

And yet, I wanted him to overpower me. To break me apart and put me back together with his hands, his mouth, his cock.

A sharp gasp left my lips as his fingers wrapped around my throat, squeezing just enough to send a rush of heat straight between my thighs.

His rhythm was relentless, each thrust knocking the breath from my lungs, driving me higher, deeper into the sweet agony of him.

My nails clawed at his back, desperate to hold on to something as he fucked me with punishing intent.

“Rafe–” His name broke from me, wrecked and needy.

He groaned, a rough, sinful sound, his grip on my throat tightening as his cock drove into me harder. Deeper. “You feel that, mon amour?” His voice was a low rasp, thick with possession. “The way your body begs for me? Squeezing me like you never want me to leave?”

A strangled whimper tore from my lips. I was unraveling. Helpless against the tidal wave building inside me, ready to crash. My thighs trembled around his hips, my nails digging into the tense ropes of muscle in his back as the pleasure twisted tighter, threatening to snap.

He felt it. He knew .

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?”

I could barely think. Could barely breathe. No one had ever fucked me like this. Before I could answer, his mouth crashed onto mine, swallowing my cries as I shattered around him. My body locked up, my orgasm ripping through me like a violent storm, spasming and clenching around his cock.

“Goddammit, Adela,” he growled against my lips, his voice raw, almost pained. His hips slammed into me one last time, burying himself entirely. I felt it–the deep, pulsing throb of his release, the way he groaned as he emptied himself inside me.

And then, just as suddenly as he’d claimed me, he pulled away.

A cruel absence. I sucked in a shaky breath, my body still trembling as he took a step back.

His gaze raked over me–my flushed skin, the way my dress was still bunched around my hips, exposing where he’d just ruined me.

A slow, satisfied smirk curled at the corner of his lips.

Holy shit. I just let Rafe fuck me.

And I felt...incredible. Sated.

“Resist me if you want, now,” he said, so smooth, so damn smug. “But in the end…” He tilted his head, his eyes flicking over me. “…we both know how this ends.”

I swallowed hard, pulling my dress down. “Do we?”

He smiled, slow and sharp. Then he turned, walking toward the sleek desk in the corner of the room, buckling his pants back up. “Are you really asking me that?” he said, settling into the chair, lounging like a king on his throne.

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, struggling to breathe past the euphoria still clouding my head. “Come to my office tomorrow. We will discuss your business and our...whatever this is.” I motioned between us.

“Did you enjoy how I fucked you?” he asked with a smirk.

I hesitated, forcing him to wait a moment. “I did.”

He studied me for a moment, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “My business,” he said casually with a grin. “It requires discretion. Power. Protection. And your company?” His blue eyes gleamed. “It’s the best in the industry.”

He wanted Sinclair Solutions to shield him from competition and from whatever wildly illegal activities he engaged in. “You want me to cover your tracks,” I murmured. “Fine. ”

Rafe nodded, satisfaction flashing in his gaze. “Among other things.”

I exhaled through my nose, trying to ignore the fact that my body still ached from his touch.

That the room still smelled like him, like expensive cologne and danger .

“This isn’t just about business for you,” I said quietly.

“You wanted me here for a reason. There are other very good firms in the city.”

His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes shifted . “I wanted to see for myself,” he admitted. “If you were really as untouchable as they say.”

My stomach twisted. “And?”

He grinned. “Oh, love. ” He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping against the armrest. “You’re not untouchable at all. Clearly. But now you are.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why?”

Then he smirked. “Because you’re mine now. Remember?”

***

RAFE

Adela was still in my fucking veins. I could still feel the warmth of her body beneath my hands, the way she arched so perfectly, helpless against the pleasure I gave her. I’d never forget the way she had looked at me–wide-eyed, breathless, balancing on that knife’s edge between fear and surrender.

I swallowed hard, gripping the steering wheel tighter as I drove. My cock still ached from the memory. If I let myself, I’d get hard all over again just thinking about how her perfect body had taken me. I wanted more. I needed more.

My phone buzzed on the seat beside me. I let it ring twice before answering. “Yeah?”

“You need to come home.” Vincent’s voice was calm but firm. There was no question in it–just expectation .

I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders. “What happened?”

“I’ll explain when you get here.”

I hated when he did that. But Vincent wasn’t the type to sound the alarm unless it mattered. So I nodded, though he couldn’t see me. “Be there soon.”

The iron gates of my estate groaned open as I pulled up, the black SUV gliding down the long driveway toward the mansion. My home was as much a fortress as it was a display of wealth with its sharp, modern lines, massive windows, and security at every entrance.

Vincent was waiting for me at the entrance, arms crossed, expression entirely bored.

He was the one person I trusted without question, my right-hand man and oldest friend.

A soldier who had earned his place beside me through blood and loyalty.

He was lean and deadly, always dressed in dark suits tailored to fit his tall, wiry frame.

His face was sharp, all hard angles, with calculating hazel eyes that missed nothing.

His suit jacket stretched slightly as he ran a hand through his dark, shoulder-length hair before exhaling. “Moreau is making his move.”

I stilled. My jaw clenched. “What did he do?”

Vincent’s gaze was sharp, assessing. “He’s been trying to weasel his way in with some of our clients. And he’s planning to intercept a shipment of ketamine and MDMA before it reaches us.”

My body coiled tight, rage simmering beneath my skin.

Moreau had been circling like a vulture for too long. He’d tested boundaries, sent messages, but this? This was a direct challenge. A fucking provocation. I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to. Vincent already knew what I was thinking.

“The guy we picked up?” he asked.

“In the basement,” I confirmed.

Vincent nodded once. “I’ll meet you down there. ”

The basement was cold, sterile. Built for a singular purpose. Moreau’s man was tied to a chair in the center of the room, his head slumped forward, blood already trailing from his nose. He’d been softened up for me. Good .

I stepped forward, my footsteps echoing off the concrete. At the sound, the man lifted his head. His swollen eyes widened slightly, flickering with recognition.

“Vaughan–”

I struck before he could say another word, my fist colliding with his jaw, snapping his head to the side. He grunted, spitting blood onto the floor. I leaned down, gripping his chin, forcing him to look at me. My voice was calm, almost soothing.

“Let’s have a conversation.”

He swallowed hard.

I smiled.

And then I made it hurt. The man coughed, spitting more blood onto the cold concrete floor. His face was a ruin of bruises and cuts, his right eye swollen shut, but I wasn’t done yet. Not even close.

I rolled my shoulders, shaking out my fists. My knuckles were already raw, split from the force of my hits, but the sting barely registered. “Talk,” I ordered, voice low, controlled.

The bastard groaned, his head lolling forward. “I–I don’t know anything.”

Wrong answer.

I grabbed a fistful of his sweat-drenched hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to look at me. His breathing was ragged and uneven, his entire body trembling in the chair. “You think I brought you here to play fucking games?” My voice was calm and measured but lethal.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

I pulled a knife from my belt–sleek, sharp, a trusted old friend–and pressed the tip against the soft flesh beneath his eye. He sucked in a sharp breath. “Moreau tried to intercept one of my shipments,” I said, voice like steel. “Tell me where the shipment is.”

“I don’t know!” he wheezed. “I swear–”

I slid the blade down, cutting a thin, shallow line along his cheek. Blood welled instantly, trickling down his face.

He cried out, jerking in the chair, but the ropes held him tight.

I let the silence stretch, let him feel the weight of what was coming next. Then I crouched, bringing us to eye level. “You work for Moreau,” I said. “Which means you know something.”

His breath hitched. “He–he’s been meeting with your clients. Trying to get them to jump ship.”

I tilted my head, watching him carefully. “Names.”

He hesitated.

I sighed and drove the knife into his thigh. His scream ricocheted off the walls, raw and ugly. “I don’t have all fucking night,” I said as I twisted the blade, enjoying the way his body spasmed against the pain.

“F-Falco,” he gasped, eyes rolling back. “Falco’s considering taking Moreau’s offer.”

Falco. That motherfucker.

I yanked the knife free, wiping the blood off on the man’s already ruined shirt. He whimpered, shaking violently. “And the shipment?” I pressed.

His breath came in short, painful bursts. “Tomorrow night. Eastern dock. He’s planning to take it–”

Well, the fuck knew where to swoop in and take my shipment. But I’d have my men there first. Vincent, leaning casually against the wall, finally stepped forward. He’d let me have my fun, but now he was ready to wrap things up.

I stood, adjusting my cuffs, my suit still pristine despite the blood now pooling at my feet. I looked down at the man–at what was left of him. “You just saved yourself a lot of pain,” I murmured.

Hope flickered in his one good eye. “So… you’ll let me go? ”

I gave him a slow, cruel smile. Then I pulled my gun and put a bullet between his eyes. His body slumped, lifeless.

Vincent let out a quiet exhale. “Messy.”

I slid my gun back into the holster and rolled my shoulders. “He outlived his usefulness.”

Vincent shook his head, but there was amusement in his eyes. “I’ll handle cleanup.”

I turned on my heel, already moving toward the exit. There was more work to be done, and Moreau? He was about to learn what it meant to piss me off.